In each letter, here design'd, Let the reader emblem'd find Neatness of the owner's mind. Gilded margins count a sin, Let thy leaves attraction win By the golden rules within; Sayings fetch'd from sages old; Laws which Holy Writ unfold, Worthy to be graved in gold: Lighter fancies not excluding; Blameless wit, with nothing rude in, Sometimes mildly interluding Amid strains of graver measure: Virtue's self hath oft her pleasure In sweet Muses' groves of leisure. Riddles dark, perplexing sense; Darker meanings of offence; What but _shades_--be banished hence. Whitest thoughts in whitest dress, Candid meanings, best express Mind of quiet Quakeress. IN THE ALBUM OF MISS ------ I Such goodness in your face doth shine, With modest look, without design, That I despair, poor pen of mine Can e'er express it. To give it words I feebly try; My spirits fail me to supply Befitting language for't, and I Can only bless it! II But stop, rash verse! and don't abuse A bashful Maiden's ear with news Of her own virtues. She'll refuse Praise sung so loudly. Of that same goodness, you admire, The best part is, she don't aspire To praise--nor of herself desire To think too proudly. IN THE ALBUM OF A VERY YOUNG LADY (? 1830) Joy to unknown Josepha who, I hear, Of all good gifts, to Music most is given; Science divine, which through the enraptured ear Enchants the Soul, and lifts it nearer Heaven. Parental smiles approvingly attend Her pliant conduct of the trembling keys, And listening strangers their glad suffrage lend. Most musical is Nature. Birds--and Bees At their sweet labour--sing. The moaning winds Rehearse a _lesson_ to attentive minds. In louder tones "Deep unto Deep doth call;" And there is Music in the Waterfall. IN THE ALBUM OF A FRENCH TEACHER (? 1829)